


any words for an “are you okay”

by mossy_kit



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: (and I am very proud of her), Dot is Trying Their Best, Eugenia has a good game, Gen, coffee cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27958808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossy_kit/pseuds/mossy_kit
Summary: It's game 4 of the Coffee Cup when Eugenia Garbage steps up to the mound for her very first game as pitcher. After ten percolations in the last three games, everyone knows that there will be more. Dot knows they're not always the best at comforting people, but they know what it feels like to feel responsible, even a little, for pitching a game where someone dies.So it's up to them to figure out what to say.
Relationships: PolkaDot Patterson & Eugenia Garbage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Canada Moist Talkers Fanfiction





	any words for an “are you okay”

Dot kept turning the words, the phrasing, over in their mind.

They were pretty sure they knew what they would have wanted to hear, and they'd put a lot of that into the speech, but there were other things too. Would it be too forward to assume Eugenia would blame herself? Dot was pretty sure it was clearer, here, that it wasn't her fault, but then again, who knew. And then there was getting the tone right - not too depressing, this wasn't an incineration, but then, the one percolation Dot actually had seen had been… unsettling.

An incineration, at least, was clear and directed and relatively quick, most of the time, but a percolation was slower than you'd think it would be. Strangely half-peaceful, especially given how the team seemed to have almost accepted it, by now, like most of them were just waiting for their turn. Parker was as oblivious as ever, but then again as the Commissioner, maybe he was protected somehow. It was a bit beyond Dot, anyway, and they'd had enough dealings with godly forces to last a lifetime.

Heavy FC had won their games already, so they had traveled, insofar as you _could_ travel, to Macchiato City, that strange sleepless place. During the game, they sat uneasily in the stands, switching back and forth between watching Eugenia pitch with a skill that was far beyond beginner’s luck, and scanning the sky for those strange saucers. As they slipped back into the rhythmic flow of the game, batters and pitchers, nice and easy, they ran the wording over again and again in their head. It wasn't always easy to get it all out right, but they had to try.

After Workman... Well, it wasn't like they had wanted to hear from anybody then. But Eugenia would, and they didn't necessarily think they were the best person for the job, but they were one of the only ones who understood something like that. And so many of their teammates were still playing, anyway, or off watching other games. So it would have to be them, and they turned over the thoughts, arranged them into something articulate enough, as the innings ticked up.

They knew better than to start hoping at the 7th, but by the 8th and 9th, ...well, they tried not to indulge that feeling of heady reprieve as the last few batters took the mound. Eugenia struck out the Commissioner, then a flyout, and then… that last ground out, and then, with very little fanfare, it was just over.

Somehow, against all odds, there had not been a single percolation for the entire game. Dot released a massive breath they didn’t know they had been holding as the victory was called for Macchiato City, 13 to 6. Solid, they thought to themselves, that’s decisive.

They met Eugenia down just outside the field afterwards.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were able to make it, Dot!” she had said, as sunny as ever.

“Yes,” they said, “I wanted to congratulate you on a very good game.”

“Oh, thanks!” she said, and had launched into a description of the pitching, some questions about the mechanics. Dot had slid easily into the conversation, maybe the easiest subject of many for them, and let the relief wash over them in a wave. There had been a lot of stress, a lot of struggle – this was blaseball after all. But at least, just for today, Eugenia had not had to witness something horrible, and for that, Dot felt lucky.

As far as luck went, in a game like this, that was pretty much all they could ask for.


End file.
